


New Beginnings

by AmaranthPrincess21



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/M, Gen, Vampire!Eren, Victorian!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-19 23:09:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2406290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmaranthPrincess21/pseuds/AmaranthPrincess21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is bitterly cold on the street and you know you're not going to live for much longer. But a mysterious green-eyed young man arrives and offers you a new chance at life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Beginnings

It was bitterly cold on the frozen sidewalk. Pristine white snow drifted down from the heavens, covering your thin shawl and tangling itself in your [h/c] hair. Your breath came out in visible puffs as you snuggled into your shawl, trying to stay warm. The bitter, metallic taste of blood coated your tongue, and with every breath you took, you felt yourself getting more and more lightheaded. You thought of happier days, when you and your family would spend Christmases together. You’d all gather around the fireplace and enjoy each other’s company in the fire’s bright, warm light.

_What I wouldn’t give to relive those days,_ you thought wistfully. Your parents died in a boating accident, and you were left on your own. You got little money in your inheritance, and once you had exhausted what your parents had left you all you had to get a job. And only one place would take you in: the streets. 

Being a prostitute wasn’t as bad as you thought it was. Your returning costumers were very generous with tips. But still, every so often you lost sight of the truth: every prostitute knew she wasn’t selling her body, she was selling the experience. Every so often, usually after a violent john, it felt as if you weren’t selling the experience and you _were_ selling your body. But the older girls assured you that was just a novice emotion, that once you had been a sex worker for a while you stopped feeling like that. 

But now, given your current condition, you were never going to only think of your work as selling the experience. 

Blood slowly made its way from your ribs onto the ice underneath you. You’d been stabbed multiple times – you should have known better than to work this late into the evening, especially since not even a few months ago Jack the Ripper had gone on his infamous murder spree, and God knew if he was still out there just biding his time. _At least I didn’t fall under his knife,_ you thought, coughing up blood. There was still so much you wanted to do in life. Travel the world. Live like a lady. Get married and start a family. But as you lay dying in the street, you knew it was never going to happen. 

The sharp sound of horses’ hooves against the cobblestone street, interrupting your reverie. A glossy black carriage passed you. The window’s blood red curtains were drawn and for a fraction of a second you made eye contact with the young man inside. He was nicely dressed; you figured he was coming home from a ball. His chocolate brown hair was messy, and his piercing green eyes seemed to gently invade your mind. You didn’t keep his eye contact for long, looking down to your bloody lap. 

The coach came to an abrupt halt a few meters away from you and the young man hurried out, sprinting towards you. _What? What is he doing,_ you wondered. A few people had walked by you, ignoring the bloody sidewalk and your body bleeding out. To have a noble man pay heed to you was jarring, to say the least. 

“Hey! Miss, are you okay?” he asked urgently, dropping to his knees. You slowly shook your head; you had tried once to call out for help, but it hurt too much to speak. The splotches of crimson in your bodice caught his eye, and his pink lips mouthed silent, scared words. “Put your arm around me. I’m going to take you to a doctor and we’re going to fix you up.” You shook your head. “I’m not leaving you here to die! If you’re not going to help me, I’ll just do this myself!” His arms snaked under your body and picked you up effortlessly as if you weighed no more than a feather. 

The interior of the carriage cabin was plush and warm. The young man laid you down on a seat, closing and locking the door before shouting for the driver to go on. He took off his black jacket and pressed it against your chest. You whimpered at the painful pressure. More blood trickled down from your lips and onto your chin. 

“How many wounds do you have?” he demanded. You showed nine fingers and his face paled. “Oh God. How long ago did this happen?” You shrugged. It probably happened a while ago but without a clock you couldn’t say anything for sure. “Do you have any family?” A pang of grief hit you and you shook your head. “A suitor? Fiancé? Husband?” You shook you head. “Do you have any ties here?” Your clients’ faces flashed before your eyes. Your fellow prostitutes’ faces flashed in your mind. _They aren’t fixtures in my life. They don’t care about me._ You shook your head. “Do you have anything left to live for?” You shook your head, tears starting to well up in your eyes. You could feel yourself slipping away, and his questions only brought up painful memories from your past. These were not things you wanted to be thinking about before your time on earth was up. 

“Do you want to live and start a new life?” he asked, his voice eerily quietly. You nodded as vigorously as you could and got dizzy as a result. He bit his lip. You had never seen someone look so nervous before. His hands shook as he drew the curtains. “This is going to hurt a little, I’m sorry. But it’ll be worth it in the end.” His gloved hand meshed with yours, holding yours firmly. He leaned in close to you, his warm face hovering over your neck. He smelled like exotic spices; if he were a food, you would have eaten him in a heartbeat. Heat rushed to your pale cheeks as his lips brushed against the crook of your neck, and you felt panicked. You hadn’t heard a lot of them, but every so often the older women told you stories of young girls that were lured into carriages and defiled by demonic men. You raised an arm to push him away, but then it happened. 

A sharp, agonizing pain surged through your body. You gasped, more blood spilling out of your mouth. The young man had bitten into your neck and refused to let go. It felt as if something hotter than the sun was being injected into your bloodstream. You could feel it travel down your veins, getting hotter and hotter until sweat started to collect on the nape of your neck. You thrashed around, trying to dislodge him, but he wouldn’t budge. The heat and pain in your body became too much, and instead of pushing the young man away, the world grew black and you lost consciousness. 

  


When you came to, you were in a large bed covered in heavy blankets. The air was warm and the smell of pastries danced through the air like ballerinas. The young man was at the foot of your bed, putting folded clothes into a large trunk. 

“W-where am I?” you asked hoarsely, each word scratching your throat. The brunet jerked as if you had frightened him. You probably had. 

“You’re awake!” he sighed in relief, rushing to the door and throwing it open. “She’s awake! Someone bring up some food!” A few “Yes, sirs!” could be heard from down the hall, and the man shut the door. “How do you feel?” His attention returned to you as he walked to your bed and sat on the edge. 

“My throat hurts and I’m hungry,” you replied warily. You were not sure what to make of him especially after he had bitten you like some kind of animal. He nodded. 

“We’ll fix those both in no time.” He offered his hand to you. “I’m Eren, by the way.” 

“I-I’m [First],” you told him, shaking his hand. “What happened? All I can remember is you biting me and searing pain.” 

“You had been stabbed and were dying on the street. I rescued you,” he responded. “I . . . well, this going to be hard to explain. [First], are you a superstitious woman?” 

“Why are you asking?” you inquired. He sighed, looking away as if he were lost for words. The staccato rapping of knuckles against the wooden door sounded, and Eren called the servant in. She left a tray of sweet and savory finger foods and a large mug of what you perceived to be red wine. The servant left without a word and Eren said nothing, leaving you in an uncomfortable silence. “So, why is it important if I’m superstitious or not?” you asked, digging into the food like there was no tomorrow. 

“Do you believe in vampires?” The word hit you like a ton of bricks, making you freeze, an éclair halfway in your mouth. His face was dead serious. 

“I’m sorry, what?” you asked incredulously removing the pastry from your mouth. “You’re not telling me . . .” 

“Turning you into one was the only way to save you. I’m sorry,” he said solemnly. He opened his mouth to reveal two needle-like canines. 

“I-is this some kind of sick joke?!” you demanded. 

“I wish it was. I’m sorry, but you’re one of us now. It was this or death.” He pushed the mug towards you. “Drink up. We’re leaving for Paris tomorrow and you’ll need all the strength you can get.” 

“Paris?” you asked, interest peaked. _Things are just getting stranger and stranger,_ you thought. 

“Yeah. I was thinking we’d have a nice Christmas in the city, and then spend New Year’s in Nice,” he explained. “And depending how the rest of us feel, we may or may not travel to Germany before returning to London. There’s a few of us: my sister Mikasa, our friends Armin, Jean, Marco, Sasha, and Connie. And once we get to Paris we’ll be staying with our friend Annie, Bertolt, and Reiner.” 

“I’ve always wanted to go to Paris,” you mumbled, looking down at your food. 

“You’ll love Paris. We’re leaving early tomorrow morning, so get some sleep tonight. And eat up,” he added, eyeing the mug of blood. Your hands reluctantly curled around the porcelain. _I don’t want to believe Eren. This would all be better as a cruel joke. But he doesn’t seem like the lying type. He seems good-natured and kind-hearted. I just don’t think he’s lying about this._ You sighed and, hands shaking, went to drink from the mug. 

The taste of blood was no longer bitter, but you could still taste the metallic tang. The taste (or lack thereof) was hard to explain. The aftertaste was slightly metallic, yes, but when you drank it, you couldn’t really taste anything unpleasant. You must have made a face, because Eren said, “I know, the first few cups are the weirdest. Something about being a vampire changes the taste. You get used to it, though. And it makes for great mixed drinks once you’re used to it. Armin likes putting milk in his, and Mikasa liked putting spices in it.” 

“What about you?” you asked numbly, not quite believing what was going on. 

“I drink it straight up unless it’s a special occasion,” he answered. _I . . . I guess this real. I guess this isn’t some cruel prank._ “Are you okay? You look pale.” 

“I’m sorry, this is just a lot to take in,” you apologized, looking up into his vibrant green eyes. “I mean, everything’s different and I feel like nothing is familiar to me at all.” He nodded, understanding your feelings. He put a warm hand on your shoulder. 

“I would love for you to join us, but you can go back to your old life if you want. You’ll have to make adjustments, of course, but if you want to stay with us, we’d all be more than happy to take you in. You’ve got the chance to start again. Personally, I would take it.” _He’s right. Nothing is familiar, but that’s okay. I can start over. I don’t have to lie on a bed for money anymore. I can travel with them and enjoy life, even if it is at the cost of having to drink blood. I can start a new and better life._

“I’d love to join you all,” you told him quietly. He grinned ear from ear. 

“I was hoping you’d say that. I’m going to go tell the others what you’ve decided. If you need anything, we’re just down the hall.” He stood up and made towards the door. 

“Eren, wait!” The words were out of your mouth before you knew it. He turned back to face you. 

“What is it, [First]?” he asked. 

“I-I just wanted to thank you for saving me and giving me a new chance at life,” you said gratefully. He chuckled, shaking his head. 

“You don’t have to thank me. I did what any decent person would do,” he replied modestly. “I’ll be back in a few moments.” 

“Of course,” you replied as he left the room, quietly shutting the door behind him. You slumped back into the push pillows of your bed, taking another sip of the blood before diving back into the food. You were really going to enjoy this new life.


End file.
